The Winter of Our Discontent
by Dark Satirist
Summary: During a recruiting mission gone wrong, Charles and Erik are forced to flee for their lives during the middle of a blizzard. Set during my Perks verse, but you don't have to read that to understand this one. AU to XMFC ending.
1. Hell is Cold

_Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing except for the plot. The title is from William Shakespeare's _Richard III _and the characters belong to Marvel. Sigh._

_So, this is an early holiday present for all of you. I'm going to be updating once a week, though the day will vary. This week it's Monday because I'm bored. The story is complete, it just needs posting._

_I wrote this purposely as a three-part story that ties into my Perks verse but won't actually appear in the Perks verse except by mention in one of the later chapters. I really loved the scene, but I was already getting bombarded with six thousand other ideas to write in the story, so this one had to get cut out. Oh well. It makes for a really good spin off story, in my opinion._

_It's going to be three chapters including an epilogue. The first two chapters are about 6 pages and the epilogue is about 5. It's written like Perks, which means it starts in the present and switches to the past and then switches back. Be sure to pay attention to line breaks, because that will signal a change in time. _

_I hope you enjoy the story! Be sure to read and review. : )_

**The Winter of Our Discontent**

**Chapter 1: Hell Is Cold**

A faint dusting of snow glistened on the evergreen tress and the cold, hard ground, making the icy darkness appear almost fairy-tale like. The howling, icy wind quickly dismantled that illusion, though, tearing through the trees and dumping freezing mounds of snow from the trees to the occupants of the ground below.

Two lone men stumbled through the darkness, looking like macabre contenders in a three-legged race. One, tall and imposing, had a dark gash weeping blood down the left hand side of his face. His light brown hair was matted with snow, dirt, twigs, and God knew what else. He had one arm wrapped tightly around his side, with his other thrown around the shoulders of a shorter, less imposing man with boyishly long hair. The second man looked pale and ghostly in the faint light. There were no outward signs of distress, save for the occasional stumble, which could be just from exhaustion.

A roar of gunfire could be heard faintly over the screaming wind. Both men halted, the taller one nearly falling on his face. The shorter grunted as he adjusted the taller man's position.

The two exchanged a look, brilliant blue eyes locking on exhausted and pained gray green. There was a wordless argument between them. The shorter man sighed heavily as he looked away first.

"They're growing closer, Erik."

"I noticed, Charles."

Erik's voice was faint, barely audible, even with his mouth right next to Charles' ear.

Charles pursed his lips as another wordless argument took place between them. This time, he was determined not to look away first.

Erik growled.

"You should just leave me here."

"_Forget it_."

"Charles…"

"I'm not leaving you. So just shut the hell up, Erik."

* * *

><p>Charles fiddled with his fork, obviously anxious and on edge. Erik didn't have to be a telepath to pick up on that, but did his best to ignore it anyway as he concentrated on eating the eggs and toast that were in front of him. Years of being in a concentration camp, and then later, completely broke taught him never to pass up food. Especially free food that was completely delicious.<p>

But Charles seemed determined to ruin Erik's near reverent like consumption of food with his ever growing anxiety. He had gone from merely fiddling with his fork to tapping it annoyingly on the edge of the table and drumming his free fingers right along side.

Erik sighed and set down his fork, staring mournfully at the eggs on his plate. They were perfectly cooked, scrambled with cheese and extra pepper. The toast looked amazing, perfectly browned but not burnt, with an extra large heaping of glistening butter right on top.

And Charles was ruining it.

Erik cast a swift glance at his friend, completely unsurprised to find the telepath's face ashen and his eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Relax, Charles. I'm sure she'll be here soon."

Charles sighed and set down his fork, but did not stop drumming his fingers. Erik was half tempted to take the fork and wrap it around the telepath's fingers, just to see what would happen, but that would draw unwanted attention.

"She's twenty minutes late, Erik."

"There's this little thing called _traffic_. I'm sure you've heard of it. It usually involves lots of cars, maybe an accident, and people being late."

Charles scowled.

"The CIA knows where she is. Hell, they're the reason why _we_ know where she is."

It didn't take a genius or a telepath to know where Charles' mind was, but sometimes Erik wished he did have the gift of telepathy, just to make it easier to understand Charles at times.

"Their anti-mutant campaign hasn't taken root in this state yet. You _know _that, Charles."

Charles seemed determined not to listen to reason.

"I should have insisted on meeting with her last night. I don't like this. She's _late_."

Erik resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.

"She'll be here."

"How do you know that?"

The door to the small café swung open with a chime, admitting a young woman with shining red hair. Erik heaved a mental sigh of relief, recognizing her instantly from Charles' memories and the files.

"Because she's right behind you."

* * *

><p>Whoever had said that Hell was hot was a liar. This was Hell, and certainly was <em>not<em> hot. It was _freezing_. It was beyond freezing. It was so damn cold that he could literally feel his hair freezing to his skull, even through the thick cap he was wearing.

Snow and sleet fell in thick, white sheets, blinding him, and making him _colder_ than he ever thought was possible. Colder than he had been when he was nine and had to live through the worst of Poland's winters in nothing but a threadbare jacket and fingerless gloves. Colder than when that night he had tried to stop a submarine with nothing but his mind in the middle of the God forsaken ocean. He was _cold_. Frozen. A human icicle. He highly doubted that he would ever be _warm_ after this.

There was a soft, warm breath in his ear, reminding him that he was not alone in this bitter, icy Hell. It was no comfort. He didn't wish this horror on anyone, not even his worst enemies—which he had a fair amount of. And he certainly wouldn't want it for the one person who was there with him at the moment, either. This was beyond Hell. This was…

"While I understand what you're thinking about, Erik, I don't think there is anything worse than Hell. That's why it's called _Hell_. Because there is nothing worse."

Erik shivered, his teeth chattering, despite how hard he clenched them together. It was so damn cold.

"Shut up, Charles."

His voice stuttered and broke so many times during those three simple words that he doubted Charles actually expended the energy to decipher what he said and instead picked the words out of his mind.

Charles heaved a sigh and shifted his weight to take another step forward. Erik protested the movement with the beginnings of a whimper as pain exploded in his wounded shoulder. His already snowed out vision went completely white, and then a pretty shade of black as he fought to remember how to breathe.

Through it all, he was aware of a constant presence in his mind, soothing him, and attempting to take away the pain. Some part of Erik knew he should protest this, that he was not okay with Charles taking the pain as his own, but he could barley remember how to breathe, let alone form conscious thoughts that Charles could understand. Besides, Erik was fairly certain that Charles would ignore whatever arguments stood in his way, per usual, and do whatever the hell he wanted.

He shivered again, Actually, it was more of a violent shudder, but for his own mental image, he called it a shiver. There was no need to be alarmed over the fact that he _hurt_ and was completely and utterly _frozen_.

"Erik, I swear, you are a paradox."

"I've been told that before. Mostly by you."

That wasn't exactly what came out of his mouth. Actually, it wasn't even close. Between the bullet in his shoulder and the overpowering _cold_, it was amazing that Erik could even _think_ coherently, let alone speak. And besides, he was trapped out in the middle of nowhere with a telepath. What he said didn't matter. It was what he thought.

"That was utterly profound, my friend."

Charles was only this glib when he was scared out of his mind. Erik secretly didn't blame him. He was scared too.

Charles sighed again.

"We're going to get out of here, Erik. I promise you that."

* * *

><p>Her name was Felicity Greer. She was twenty-three years old, studying liberal arts at Washington State University. She was the only child of the late Patrick and Clarissa Greer, who died in a car crash last September. She had no other relatives.<p>

She was also a telepath.

Charles let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as the cautious mind reached out and touched his own before he turned around to face her. She was shy and wary of him, which was understandable, given the current state of mutant affairs in the government. She wanted to believe his story, but at the same time, she was scared to trust him in case it was a trap.

Charles smiled at her, both physically and mentally. He wanted to reassure her that he was trustworthy, that she had nothing to fear.

He heard Erik's thoughts buzzing in the background, but didn't register them.

"Hi."

Felicity spoke in a soft, yet unnerved voice that belayed little of the anxiety she was feeling in her mind.

Charles' smile widened as he stood up to shake her hand. Behind him, he heard Erik mutter something about _overly polite telepaths_, but didn't have to turn to know that the metal wielder had followed suit. While he had all but been raised by wolves, Erik could be a gentleman at times.

"I'm Charles Xavier. This is my companion, Erik Lensherr."

"I'm Felicity."

Her pale face flushed with embarrassment. Charles heard her mental admonishments, which just made him smile even more.

_You have nothing to fear from us, Felicity_.

She froze at Charles' mental reassurance, her green eyes growing wide in surprise. She obviously hadn't believed him yesterday when he told her that he was like her.

_I—you—you can communicate with minds, too?_

Charles nodded once.

_Yes._

He didn't let on that he could do a lot more than that. He didn't want to frighten her off or offend her.

_Charles, I hate to break up your telepathic love connection, but can we please finish breakfast before having any deep conversations about the mutant fight for survival? I'm _starving. _Not all of us can survive on bread and water for _weeks_ at a time._

Charles sent a mental eye roll in Erik's direction.

"Would you like to join us for breakfast, Felicity?"

She looked hesitant, her wide green eyes shooting to Erik. Charles intercepted and quickly interpreted the look.

"I assure you, Erik's completely harmless."

_I thought you didn't lie, Charles._

_Shut _up_, Erik_.

Felicity still looked anxious, but slowly nodded her head once.

"All right."

Charles smiled again.

* * *

><p>Erik flinched as Charles gently prodded his shoulder. He had thought by now the cold would have numbed him past the point of pain, but apparently, Erik wasn't that lucky.<p>

Charles muttered something incoherent before sighing heavily.

"You got lucky. The bullet went straight through your shoulder."

Erik let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough.

"You call that _lucky_?"

"Well, it could have gotten stuck in a bone and caused you to lose your shoulder. As it is, I'm pretty sure the bullet just grazed the bone. The only real danger you're in right now is having a really ugly scar."

Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't sure if he could at this point. He was fairly certain his eyeballs were frozen over.

"Don't be ridiculous, Erik. Your eyes would have to be open for that to happen."

Erik sighed.

_Do you try to be this annoying, or does it come naturally to you?_

"It's all apart of my charm. Now, open your eyes, Erik, or they are going to freeze shut and I will reserve the right to laugh at you for the rest of your life."

_However long _that_ may be._

Charles didn't respond, but Erik didn't miss the sudden sadness that seeped through their mental link. That, more than anything else, got Erik to open his eyes.

His vision was blurry and he could barely make out anything besides shadows and whiteness. He blinked, hating how much of an effort it took to open his eyes again, but was rewarded with everything sharpening into blurred images.

Charles was standing next to him, looking simultaneously surprised and relieved to see Erik's eyes open. He smiled, though the expression looked forced. There was something _off_ about him, something Erik couldn't quite put a finger on.

Before he could figure it out, however, Charles changed the subject.

"Come on. We need to keep going. I think the CIA is gone, but I don't want to take any chances."

* * *

><p>Charles and Felicity had hit it off instantly, from the moment she had joined them at their corner table. Erik wasn't surprised—there were very few people who could resist Charles' overwhelming charm and charisma. In fact, the only one who Erik could really think of was Stryker, and that didn't count. The feeling was more than mutual.<p>

Erik sat on the edge of the conversation, keeping most of his comments to himself and letting Charles take the lead. This was usually how it worked on these recruiting missions. Charles did all the talking and Erik made sure no one tried—or succeeded—in killing them.

_Your input is always valuable, Erik. It's your choice to keep silent. _

Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead got up to get more coffee. He doubted Felicity and Charles even noticed.

_That's bullshit, Erik, and you know it._

The metal wielder sighed.

_Stay out of my head._

_Well, stop projecting your thoughts. It's getting—Erik, we need to leave. Now._

The slight teasing note in Charles' thoughts vanished instantly. Erik looked back at the table, his mouth tightening into a firm line when he saw Charles' grim expression.

_So much for a happy breakfast. What's going on?_

_Felicity apparently has a stalker. And he just showed up._

_Anyone we know?_

Erik was not about to get involved in some petty human stalker crisis. Though, he highly doubted that was the case, given how pale Charles' face had just gotten.

_I've seen him in Stryker's thoughts._

_His projected thoughts, you mean._

_Yes. Now hurry up and get back here._

_Where's this stalker? Who is he?_

_His name is Wilson Cobb. He's sitting down three tables over. Wearing a green tie, white dress shirt. Good God, Erik… we were wrong. There is a CIA base here. It's close._

_Get Felicity out of here._

_I'm not leaving you behind!_

_You are not going to endanger a college kid's life on account of this. I'll take care of it._

_Erik…_

**Go**_ Charles. _

The mental conversation took all of about five seconds, but it was enough to draw attention from the man in the green tie. He looked up, meeting Erik's eyes with the slightest hints of a smile. His left hand brushed against an unmistakable L-shaped bulge.

It was Erik's turn to smile. This man obviously didn't know about his powers.

_Erik, don't do anything stupid. I'm taking Felicity back to the hotel. If you're not there in half an—god damn it all!_

_Charles?_

Alarm spiked through Erik as he tore his eyes away from the Wilson fellow and looked back to Charles. The telepath was halfway out of his seat, two fingers pressed against his temple, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut in pain. Felicity was nowhere in sight.

_The damned CIA has a telepath!_

Erik froze mid step. He looked back at Wilson, fear shooting through him as the man's smile widened. Beside him, sat a mirror image of Felicity, her beautiful face twisted into a nasty grin.

_Charles… _

There was a brief moment of silence, though it wasn't cause for alarm. Yet. Erik could feel Charles in his mind and winced at the sudden pressure.

_Sorry._

_Don't be._

_Shit. I should have suspected this._

_What should we do?_

_Well, one thing's for sure…_

The mental connection broke off as Charles let out a soft cry of pain. It registered no affect on the dining room's companions, but it spurred Erik into action. He couldn't take his revenge on the telepath or Wilson without letting Charles get hurt, and that was _not_ an option.

He made it across the room in a few short steps and placed a gentle hand on Charles' shoulder.

_Time to go, Charles._

_But what about the bill?_

The mental connection shook with pain, but Erik was relieved at the sad humor.

_I'll tell them to leave it on our tab. Come on. Before Wilson starts shooting at us or Felicity launches another attack._

_She's not going to._

Erik didn't question the grim statement, for he knew better than to ask at the moment. Wait until there was a point about six months from now when they both had sufficient alcohol to even think about what they had done.

_You know, I'm pretty sure that's not healthy._

Charles was walking now and they quickly exited the café with no interruptions. Not that they were expecting it—the CIA would trail the two mutants quietly, wait until they got back to the hotel, and then set up an ambush.

_Are you okay?_

Charles nodded once, his face still extremely pale and his lips tightened into a thin line. His eyes were full of self recrimination.

Erik sighed. Nothing bad had happened—they would avoid their hotel and head for the airport where Hank was hopefully already waiting for them—and yet, Charles still seemed content to blame himself for everything.

Charles squeezed his eyes shut again just as a bullet ripped through the quiet street and slammed into the wall right next to Erik.

_Shit_.


	2. Pain is Sharp

_Thank you for all of the lovely reviews! I will be responding to them personally shortly. _

_Just wanted to clear one thing up: Felicity was working for the CIA all along; she used her powers to trick Charles and Erik in the last chapter. Sorry if that confused anyone!_

__Edit: The Singing Duck pointed out to me that I missed some line breaks the first time around. I fixed them!__

**The Winter of Our Discontent**

**Chapter 2: Pain is Sharp**

Erik couldn't go any further. He was sweating despite how cold it was and it was everything he could do to keep upright and conscious. He stumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time in less than ten minutes, letting out an involuntary groan as the bones in his shoulder grated together painfully. Even with Charles acting as his human painkiller, he still hurt.

Charles grunted as he tugged Erik back to his feet. Erik forced his eyes open and then made himself look Charles in the face. The telepath looked flat out exhausted, but determined. Erik knew it was going to have to be his call before Charles would quit, the man was that stubborn.

"Charles… we've got to stop."

The effort to get those words out took more than Erik was willing to admit.

He felt more than heard Charles' sigh.

"All right. Pick out a tree and get comfy. We're going to be here for the next few hours until someone can find us."

While Erik appreciated the attempt at sarcasm, he didn't miss the underlying current of fear and frustration that ran through Charles' voice.

"That tree looks comfortable."

Erik was pointing—more like gesturing with his mind—to the tree closest to Charles.

Charles let out something faintly resembling a laugh but sounded more like a poorly disguised groan of exhaustion. Erik gave him something that should have been a pointed look, but probably came across as pleading and pained.

They hobbled over to the tree and collapsed against the bark, neither caring about the frigid snow or how awkward their position might look. Erik flat out refused to admit it, but he knew the only thing keeping him upright and mobile was his human telepathic crutch. And he would admit to that before he admitted to the fact that he was glad it was Charles stuck out here with him.

"I'm not sure if I should be honored or offended by that thought, Erik."

Erik closed his eyes, trying to resist the urge to laugh. That would hurt. And if it hurt him, then it would hurt Charles. Trying to avoid all things that hurt seemed like a good idea.

"I agree with you entirely, my friend."

Was it just him, or did Charles sound more exhausted than usual?

"You should try being attacked by a telepath, getting shot at, and then having to drag your best friend five miles through the woods in the middle of a snowstorm and see how well _you_ come out of it."

Erik stuck his tongue out at Charles, instantly regretting the action when his tongue froze. He quickly retracted it, ignoring Charles' laugh.

"You're an idiot, Erik."

_Who, me? They'll write movies about me. _

"The fact that you can only communicate coherently with your mind should alarm me much more than it does."

_The fact that you're still talking makes me think that you enjoy taking my pain way too much. Masochist._

"Jesus, you try to do something nice for somebody and they get all pissy. And you call _me_ girly."

_You spend half an hour in the bathroom every morning doing your hair._

"I also spend three hours a night drinking scotch and playing chess with you. Ever think I might get this thing called a hangover?"

_You're immune to hangovers._

Charles let out another chuckle. Erik didn't miss the flinch Charles made, either. He sighed.

_You're hurt, aren't you?_

"What gave you that idea?"

Charles didn't _sound_ hurt. He sounded tired.

"I _am_ tired. And not hurt. See? I'm fine."

_Liar_.

Charles sighed.

"Just a residual effect from fighting a telepath. It's been a while since I've had to do that."

His voice shook and he looked away, becoming intensely interested in the trees. Erik felt guilty for bring up the memories of Texas, wishing now that he hadn't.

_Sorry._

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

_Charles…_

"Shut up, Erik."

The harshness in Charles' voice wasn't directed at Erik. It was directed at the CIA, the shitty world they had been born into, and everything else that had gone bad since the two met each other.

* * *

><p>Charles had the presence of mind to get over his self-recrimination and yank Erik to the ground as another bullet whizzed over their heads. He shot a swift glance over his shoulder, swearing when he saw Wilson and the telepath a few yards behind them.<p>

He nudged Erik with his foot and pointed. Erik glanced back and swore as well.

"We've got to move."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious. There are three more CIA members closing in from the west."

"Then we go east."

"That's taking us away from the airport."

"We'll circle back around when night falls."

"There's a chance of a blizzard later. If we go too far out of town, chances are, we aren't coming back anytime soon."

"Well, if you want to get shot, then we'll head for the airport."

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but changed what he was about to say mid-word.

"We—_shit_."

"How very French of you, Charles. Yes, this situation is very shitty."

The jibe barely registered in the telepath's mind.

"There is a fourth CIA agent making his way from the east. It's Stryker."

"Senior or junior?"

Charles swallowed and focused his mind harder. With a faint hint of relief, he realized he could read everything in the man's mind.

"Senior."

"Guess that's one thing to be thankful for."

Another bullet crashed into the pavement beside them. Charles looked at Erik with a disparaging expression.

"You were saying?"

* * *

><p>Erik couldn't feel his shoulder. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, just that it was different then the overwhelming pain he had been experiencing. He knew it wasn't something Charles was doing. He could generally still feel all of his limbs when Charles was acting like a pain receptor. This was something else entirely. And it scared him.<p>

"Your shoulder is developing the first stages of frostbite."

Charles' voice made Erik start. He blinked, looking up at his friend. Somehow, they had maneuvered themselves so Charles was resting against the tree and Erik was sprawled across his lap. It was easier for Erik to stay conscious and it kept them both warm enough.

Charles looked back at him, his blue eyes dull with exhaustion. His nose looked like it had been bleeding recently. Erik internally flinched, wondering how he had missed that.

"Don't even start, Erik. I'm fine. I already told you—it's a residual effect."

_Are you okay? _

"Yes. But if you don't get help soon, you won't be."

_How long do we have?_

"Until what?"

_Until they come for us._

Charles was silent. Erik shifted his weight, hissing as pain shot through his shoulder. Black spots danced across his blurred vision as he attempted to remember how to breathe.

His pain started to subside, much faster than it should have, and Erik threw Charles a dirty look. The telepath ignored him.

"I don't know how long it's going to be until our knights in shining armor arrive. But seeing as we're out in the middle of nowhere and the CIA is still out there, it might be a little while."

_How long do I have?_

There was a brief, hesitant silence, before Charles sighed.

"Whatever you're thinking, forget it. I'm not going to leave you behind. Not because I actually have a desire for you to live or would have a guilty conscious or anything, but I'd get terribly lost and we'd _both_ freeze to death out here. So, no, I'm going to stay here with you until someone finds us."

_That wasn't an answer._

"Yes it was. It was the answer to what you were going to tell me to do after I told you that I had no damn idea how long we're going to last out here."

Erik bit his lip and didn't respond. It was true that he had been about to ask Charles that, but the telepath didn't need another ego boost.

"Thanks for that."

Erik rolled his eyes, before sighing. His shoulder was back to feeling completely numb again and it was starting to get on his nerves.

His eyes started to become heavy and he had to fight to keep them open.

_Charles, talk._

Charles raised an eyebrow, but didn't question the request.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

_I don't know. Just prattle on about something stupid and philosophical._

"I should take offense at that. I got a minor in philosophy at Oxford, you know."

_Tell me about college then. I don't care. Just talk about something._

"All right. Story time it is then. But you have to promise to stay awake. I don't want the only creature to hear my wild, adventurous tales to be the squirrel above us."

_Aren't squirrels supposed to be hibernating?_

"It's a stupid squirrel. I think it might be frozen to that tree branch."

A smile ghosted Erik's face. Charles uncrossed his right arm and gingerly brushed his fingers against Erik's shoulder wound.

"It finally stopped bleeding. That's something, I guess."

_I think it froze._

"Yes, well, at least you won't die of blood loss."

_I'll pass out and die from the cold. That's definitely a better way to die._

"You're not going to _die_, Erik."

The stubborn determination in Charles' voice made Erik long to believe him. But they both knew that Erik's chances of surviving the night were slim to none and Charles' weren't much better.

Charles sighed. It was angry and annoyed, but Erik didn't care.

_Talk, __Charles_.

Charles' mouth tightened into a thin line and he glared at Erik for a moment, before relenting.

"All right. Did I ever tell you about the time my roommate stole my clothes and towels while I was in the shower and I had to walk back to the room naked?"

* * *

><p>Erik and Charles were completely surrounded by CIA agents. They were at a crossroads in the middle of the small Washington county and had gotten cut off on every single road.<p>

_Charles, I think this is the part where we're supposed to start running through our options._

_Shut up for a second._

Erik shot Charles a surprised look, which quickly melted into concern when he saw that the telepath's eyes were shut and his fingers were glued to his temple in concentration.

Whatever Erik had been expecting—all twenty CIA agents dropping like flies or running away—it wasn't the soft grunt, followed by Charles sinking to his knees and clutching his temple, nor was it the loud scream and the dark laugh the accompanied the action.

_Charles? What the hell is going on?_

He received his answer a moment later when the older Stryker walked into sight, towing the woman telepath along with him. Her nose was dripping blood and she looked terrified as she looked at Charles with wide eyes.

Stryker was practically grinning with excitement.

"Did you honestly think I'd _care_ if you hurt the freak? She's a goddamn mutant!"

Charles glared up at Stryker, looking impressively menacing from his position on his knees.

"She's a _human __being_. I thought that maybe you still had some humanity in you and wouldn't want your precious project getting hurt."

"You thought wrong, Xavier! And now, I have you and your little metal bender right where I want you."

Charles got to his feet and grinned. The expression was rather creepy and unsettling, but it made Erik smile as well.

The idiot had a plan.

_Did you ever doubt me?_

Erik was about to respond when something sharp and hot burst into his shoulder. He let out a grunt of pain and sank to his knees, barely registering the rapid report of three more gunshots or the terrible scream that ended in a bloody gurgle.

What he was aware of was Charles shouting out with both his mind and voice, sending all of the CIA agents to sleep.

Erik forced his eyes open.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?"

Charles looked at him guiltily and shrugged.

"I didn't think they were going to shoot you."

"They always shoot me."

Charles shook his head, his expression unreadable. He gently tugged at Erik's good arm and wrapped it around his own shoulders.

"Come on. We need to get out of here before they wake up."

Erik spared a glance over at the telepath, feeling slightly bad about the bullet wound in her skull. Charles followed his glance and sighed.

"She didn't stand a chance. The CIA sniper took her out."

Erik muttered a few choice swear words as they stumbled a few feet forward. His shoulder felt like someone had doused it in gasoline and then lit fire to it.

"It looks like someone doused it in gasoline and lit fire to it."

The joking note in Charles' voice sounded forced, but Erik didn't care.

They took another couple of steps before Erik managed to lock down on his pain enough to focus on walking on his own without Charles' help.

It was lucky, really, for at that moment, six more CIA agents appeared.

"How the hell did they find us?"

Charles grunted.

"It was their telepath. Last act before she died was to alert the rest of the idiots to our location."

"Damn her."

"I did."

* * *

><p>Charles was still rambling on about some trivial college pursuit, though Erik was no longer listening. It wasn't that he didn't care—well, he didn't, but that was beside the point—but he could no longer focus for longer than five seconds on what his friend was saying.<p>

"And then… Erik? Erik, don't do this. Come on, Erik! Damn it, open your eyes!"

Erik struggled to do what Charles told him, not even realizing his eyes had closed. He looked blearily at Charles.

Charles looked frantic, which was rare. Very few things caused that expression of shock, horror, and _fear_ on the telepath's face.

"You're barely breathing."

_That explains why I feel dizzy._

There was a soft, pained laugh.

"Don't give up on me, Erik. Not yet."

_I'm still here._

Charles shook his head and looked away. Erik could have sworn he had seen tears in his friend's eyes.

_How bad?_

"It's bad. But you're going to be okay. You hear me? You are going to be _okay_."

Erik didn't have the strength to shake his head, but he figured Charles got the gist of his disbelief through their telepathic link.

_No, I'm not._

"Shut up, Erik."

His voice shook violently as he tightened his grip on Erik.

_I'm gonna freeze to death or I'm gonna die of shock. Either way, it's too late for me._

"You're _wrong_."

_You know I'm not._

Charles shook his head forcefully.

"You are _not_ going to die! I'm not going to let you."

_There's nothing you can do. What's done is done._

"Damn it, this is not the end! It _can__'__t_ be."

Erik took a deep, shuddering breath, wincing at the effort it took for him to do that one simple action. His shoulder throbbed dully, not as sharp as it had once been.

_You're going to have to let me go, Charles._

"Shut up, damn it. Don't you dare talk like that."

_I'm not talking. I'm thinking. And I know you're thinking it, too._

A tear slid down Charles' face, freezing before it reached his chin. Erik's heart twisted painfully.

_I'm sorry._

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It's my fault. I should have seen that sniper's mind. I should have stopped him. Damn it, I should have done _something_."

_I don't blame you. I could have stopped the bullet._

"How could you? You didn't hear it."

_You never hear the bullet until it's too late. _

Charles trembled as he valiantly fought against the tears that were visible in his eyes.

"Now is not the time to be getting philosophical, you hear me? You are going to live through this. You don't have a choice in the matter. You're going to live and we're both going to look back on this and talk about how _stupid_ you were for ever considering dying on me in the first place."

_Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, you know._

Charles squeezed his eyes shut and huffed a sorrowful laugh.

"I'm not in denial. I'm going to save you, Erik."

_You already have. _

* * *

><p>They were running as fast as they could, though Charles doubted it would be enough. He was rapidly running out of ideas as to how to get them the hell out of town, when Erik projected a mental image of a tree.<p>

"We can lose them in the trees."

His breaths were coming in sharp gasps that Charles knew weren't just from exertion. He looked at Erik's shoulder with growing dread, knowing that if he didn't get his friend help soon, then there was a good chance Erik would die.

"It's too dangerous."

Erik was nothing, if not stubborn.

"Staying in town is too dangerous. The trees are our only shot."

"There's supposed to be a full out blizzard tonight."

"The snow will help hide us."

"Or the cold will kill us!"

"I'd rather freeze to death then be held captive by Stryker and his minions."

Charles shook his head. He agreed fully with what Erik had said—and damn it, the other man knew that. The CIA had become too powerful and would use both Charles and Erik to their own advantage in wiping out the rest of the mutants with their new brainwashing techniques. But at the same time, it was much too risky to go into an unknown forest with dusk beginning to fall and a blizzard on its way.

"We have to find another way."

"We can't. We're out of time and you know it."

As if the universe was agreeing with Erik, Stryker appeared around the corner with four other men right on his heels.

_Damn it._

They took for the trees with gunfire following them.

* * *

><p>Dying. It wasn't as painful as he thought it'd be. In fact, it was rather like floating on a cloud. A warm, comforting cloud that promised to take him away from all of the pain and suffering around him and take him to a place where he'd see his mother again.<p>

"Goddamn it, Erik! Wake up!"

The broken voice shouting at him sounded far away. Disconnected, almost, from who he was and what was happening to him.

"_Please_, Erik, don't do this!"

The pleading note made him feel slightly guilt, but the emotion felt distant, barely a part of him. He was at peace, now. Everything else seemed pointless.

_Erik… please. Don't give up on me. Stay with me. Please._

The voice in his head startled him, for it was closer than anything else had been. It broke through the cloud of contentment and threatened to send him back into the world of freezing pain.

_I can't do that._

_Please._

_I'm sorry._

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then the world turned into a kaleidoscope of greens, browns, whites, red, and _blue_ before fading away to black.


	3. After Effects

_And here is the final chapter of _The Winter of Our Discontent. _Read at your own risk. _

**The Winter of Our Discontent**

**Chapter 3: After Effects**

The world was now reduced to blurred images, black shadows, and _pain_. Every breath Charles took brought him to a whole new level of hell as he clenched his hands into fists in Erik's coat. He doubted the metal bender would care—Erik had been unconscious for the better part of half an hour now.

He had been shot in the side in the same blast of bullets that had caused Erik's injury, though some part of Charles had managed to keep the pain at bay long enough to get Erik to relative safety. Charles honestly didn't know how he had done it, but now, he was wishing he hadn't, for his insides felt as though they were on fire.

He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. The moment turned into a second, which turned into a minute before Charles forced his eyes back open. The pain was still there, still waiting for him. He needed a distraction from it, to keep from going mad, to keep from slipping away into unconsciousness.

"You know, Erik, this isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my Christmas. Though, I guess it doesn't really matter to you, seeing as you're Jewish."

Silence met his words, though Charles wasn't naïve enough to expect a response. While his friend was still alive—faint pulse, barely breathing, but still technically alive—Erik wouldn't be well enough to talk for a long while. Still, it didn't keep Charles from hoping that Erik would open his eyes and look at him with amused disdain.

The telepath sighed heavily, suppressing a whimper as the action set off a new tidal wave of pain in his side. He took a couple of shallow, quick breaths, stubbornly refusing to succumb to the pain.

It would be too easy to just close his eyes and let the pain and the cold take him away to somewhere better.

Charles forced his mind away from that train of thought as his eyes steadily began to close. He instead thought back to everything that happened over the past twenty-four hours with a wave of despair.

All of this was his fault. He should have caught wind of the CIA's involvement here sooner. He should have discovered who Felicity was and where her loyalties lay. It was _his_ responsibility to find any potential threats before they arose as it was _his_ responsibility to keep his family safe.

He had failed on both counts that day, just as he was failing now in efforts to save Erik. As the hours passed and the air steadily became colder, Charles became more aware of the fact they weren't getting out of here.

This was going to be the end of the great Charles Xavier and his faithful friend, Erik Lensherr.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I never meant for this to happen."

The choked, whispered apology fell on deaf ears. Charles bit his lip as another wave of pain crashed over him, threatening to send him spiraling into the awaiting darkness. A single tear made its way down his face, freezing to his already frost-coated face.

"This is my fault, Erik."

His words were garbled, whether with cold, pain, or despair, Charles couldn't say. It was probably all three, though it didn't stop him from talking. He told Erik how proud he was of how much the metal bender had changed since they first met in Miami, how happy he was when Erik came back, how _glad_ Charles was to finally have someone who understood him half as well as he understood everyone else. Erik, Charles had realized a long time ago, was the one man in the entire world who could see through Charles' fancy words and money right to the man underneath. It scared Charles a lot of times, but he was more than thankful for the steady friendship they had built since Cuba. Their bond was as strong as the one Charles had with Raven, if not stronger, cemented by the hardships they had faced both during the events with Shaw and after.

It hit Charles that this would be the first and only time he had ever told Erik how much the man meant to him.

"Better late then never, eh, Erik?"

Charles' bitter laugh broke off in a cough of pain which brought up hot, sticky liquid that stained the corners of his mouth. He didn't have to touch it to know that it was blood.

He ignored it, changing the subject away from his friendship with Erik as his voice grew steadily weaker and the world grew steadily darker.

The telepath took a shallow, shaking breath, which he knew to be one of his last.

"I'm so sorry, Erik."

His vision was fading out. Charles knew this was the end.

Before everything faded to black, he could have sworn he heard Raven's voice over the wind.

* * *

><p><strong>Seventy Two Hours Later<strong>

Erik woke with a gasp, pain shooting through his shoulder as he struggled to simultaneously sit up and breathe. He was aware of someone talking to him and a gentle, but unyielding hand on his shoulder that was gently forcing him back down to the pillows.

Wait. Pillows?

He blinked, taking in his surroundings with blurred eyes. A pair of concerned yellow eyes peered down at him. He blinked again and turned his head, realizing that he was in a hotel room. Nothing else could explain the tacky wallpaper and bland ceiling above him.

Erik looked back to the person standing above him, recognizing Raven instantly.

"Where am I?"

His voice sounded like a dying badger. He flinched, not expecting how painful the effort of talking would be.

"You're in a hotel room just outside of Seattle. You've been hurt, but luckily, you'll survive."

Brief flashes of a frozen forest and _pain_ in his shoulder flitted through his mind.

"How did I get here?"

Erik vaguely remembered passing out in the middle of said frozen forest with no hope whatsoever of living till sunrise.

Raven shrugged.

"It was Sean's idea. I don't know how he did it, but he somehow used his powers to act as a radar of sorts to locate you guys. It was brilliant."

She looked guilty. Erik raised an eyebrow at her inquiringly until she relented.

"When we found you, you two had almost frozen to death. Charles was barely conscious. It was bad, Erik. Really bad. You were passed out, your heart was barely beating, and Charles wasn't much better off. Actually, he was worse, with the bullet wound in his side."

_Bullet wound?_

Erik stared at Raven with shocked eyes. What the hell was she talking about? He didn't remember Charles getting shot. Charles had been fine. Tired, yes, and suffering from a headache from the telepathic attack, yes… but _shot_?

He fought against Raven's grip on his shoulder, trying to sit up.

"Let me go, Raven. I need to see Charles."

Raven shook her head.

"You were shot and nearly froze to death, Erik. You need your rest. Charles isn't up for visitors right now, anyway."

Erik froze at her words, his eyes widening.

"What?"

She looked down at him, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"He's unconscious. He has been for three days. He lost so much blood, Erik. Hank's worried that he's not going to make it. We had to take him to a hospital."

_Hospital_. The only time they went there was when things were really bad, when Hank couldn't handle things himself.

Erik allowed Raven to force him back down on the bed, barley able to think past the _oh god, not Charles_ that was slowly consuming his mind.

How had this happened? _How_ had Charles gotten shot? Why had the idiot hidden it from Erik? How had Erik missed it?

"That _moron_."

The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. Raven let out a sharp hiss before pressing her lips together.

"Erik…"

"That self-sacrificing, masochistic, insane _moron_! How the hell could he do this?"

"It's Charles. It's what he does."

Those two simple statements shouldn't have been enough explanation for what happened, but they were.

Erik threw off Raven's confining hand and his blankets. He sat up, ignoring how the world spun violently around him and managed to resist throwing up all over Raven.

"I need to see him."

Raven glared at him.

"No."

"_Please_. I—I _need_ to talk to him."

"He's unconscious, Erik."

"I don't care."

She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. Erik was momentarily struck by how much she resembled Charles in that moment. He forced the thought out of his mind.

"Please, Raven. I need to see him. It's my fault he's there in the first place."

She looked at him for a moment, but Erik knew that she was going to cave. Eventually, she nodded.

"All right."

* * *

><p>Charles slowly became aware of what was going on around him as he climbed through the blackness of unconsciousness, fighting for the surface. Pain flooded through him every time he breathed, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Somewhere above him, someone was talking—or rather, yelling very loudly—and whoever it was, sounded extremely upset about something.<p>

"How could you have been so _stupid_?"

Charles paused, trying to recall the past events to see if he was deserving of that question. He distantly remembered a lot of gunshots, yelling, a blinding pain in his head and stomach, and then running through the subzero temperatures to get away from the gunshots. He also remembered Erik, who had almost died of shock.

_Erik_.

That was the owner of the voice above him. Relief crashed over him in joyous waves. Erik was still alive. Charles hadn't failed him after all.

The relief pushed away the pain long enough for Charles to gain control over his mind. He did a quick inventory of his body, trying to gauge the damage. Outside of a dulled, throbbing pain in his stomach, he was fine. And that pain could easily be ignored for the time being.

Cautiously, he prodded at his mental faculties, trying to remember how to open his eyes. They were slow and sluggish to respond to his commands, but eventually, he cracked one lid open.

Light streamed into him, blinding him and making his head hurt. He let out a soft whimper of pain and rapidly squeezed his eye shut again.

The voice that was ranting about how much of an idiot he was stopped suddenly.

"Charles?"

_No, you idiot, it's someone else possessing my body_.

"Charles, can you hear me?"

_How can I not? You're shouting in my ear._

There was a faint, exhausted chuckle above him. Charles absently wondered what was so funny.

"You are, my friend. You're projecting. Which is a good thing, I guess. That means your brain is no more damaged than it already was."

Charles risked cracking his eyes open again to glare at Erik. The light was slightly less blinding this time, though the entire room was a blur of shadows and colors. He couldn't distinguish Erik from the wall behind him.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light even more, and gradually, the room swam into focus.

An IV and a heart monitor were to his left. He vaguely registered the IV as painkillers and a blood transfusion before his gaze shifted to the right.

Erik was slouched in a chair, with dark circles surrounded his red rimmed eyes, making him look like a raccoon who put on too much eye liner. His usually carefully styled hair was mussed and sticking up in random places. He was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, forgoing his usual turtleneck and slacks. A large, white sling on his right arm, immobilizing his shoulder.

He looked like shit.

"You should find a mirror, sometime, and then tell me that."

Charles looked at his friend groggily.

"What happened?"

He flinched, his throat raw from lack of use. Erik offered up a cup of water, which Charles gratefully sipped at.

Erik let out a heavy sigh as Charles finished off the small cup with a grunt.

"Why do you always feel the need to downplay your injuries?"

Charles raised an eyebrow.

"I don't."

"You didn't tell me you were shot."

The telepath mentally groaned.

"It wasn't important at the time."

"You were bleeding out and you didn't think it was important."

The disdain in Erik's voice was so thick, Charles could have cut it with a knife.

"You were worse off. I handled the pain as well as I could and kept us going. There wasn't anything you could have done anyway."

Anger flared in Erik's face before it rapidly disappeared, replaced by guilt. Charles hated that look.

"It wasn't your fault, Erik. You weren't the one who shot me."

"I didn't deflect the bullet, either."

"Funny, I thought we already had this conversation and we established that _it wasn't your fault_."

"Saying it again isn't going to make me feel better, Charles."

"I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because it's the _truth_. You didn't shoot me and I don't blame you for not noticing. There was _nothing_ you could have done. You had been shot, too, if I remember correctly."

Erik set his jaw and pursed his lips into a thin line.

"You still should have told me."

"It wasn't important."

"You nearly _dying_ isn't important?"

Charles looked away. Erik growled.

"Answer the question, damn it."

Charles looked back, feeling his own anger rise within him.

"Why does it matter so much? I lived, didn't I? And so did you! So why the hell does it matter what I thought at the time?"

"It matters, Charles, because you're an idiot with no self preservation whatsoever, who is willing to _die_ then to admit that he might be hurt."

"There was no might about it. I was definitely shot."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Charles closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. Pain tore at his stomach and he resisted the urge to groan.

"Honestly, I didn't even notice it until after you were unconscious. And since you weren't aware of what was going on, I decided not to mention it to you."

"_Liar_."

Charles opened his eyes again and glared. He opened his mouth to respond, but found he had nothing to say.

"What do you want me to say, Erik?"

Erik clenched his hands into fists.

"I don't want you to _say_ anything."

"That's funny. First you want me to tell you things and now you don't. Can you make up your mind already?"

"This isn't a game, Charles! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't, so it's okay now."

"You don't believe that. And you are missing the point."

"And what is the point, then?"

The metal bender shook his head in annoyance.

"If I have to explain it to you, then it is lost on you."

Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Funny. I remember telling you that a long time ago."

Erik growled again.

"Is it really that hard to take two seconds to tell me that you got _shot_?"

"It's not exactly something you slip into casual conversation. Look, it's snowing and oh, by the way, I was shot doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

Gray green eyes narrowed as Erik glared down at Charles.

"You're an idiot."

"I know. But what's done is done and there is no use harping about it."

"So does that mean next time I get shot I don't have to tell you about it?"

"It's almost impossible to hide things from me, you know. I'm a telepath."

"Then it wouldn't kill you to be honest with the rest of us who _can't_ read your mind."

Charles sighed, wincing as the pain in his stomach flared.

"Fine. I promise I will tell you next time I so much as stub my toe."

Erik nodded, ignoring Charles' obvious sarcasm.

"Good."

* * *

><p>Raven poked her head into Charles' hospital room a few hours later, smiling at what she found. Charles was fast asleep, his breathing deep and even. Erik crossed his arms on top of the bed and rested his chin on top of them and was now snoring softly. Both of them looked content and more at ease than she ever remembered seeing them.<p>

Sean made a noise behind her, reminding her that she wasn't the only person here. She turned back to him, a soft smile still playing at her lips.

"I don't think we should disturb them right now."

Sean looked irritated.

"Erik has been in there for _hours_! I want to talk to Charles!"

Raven sighed.

"You'll have to wait a little longer."

Sean shot her a suspicious glance.

"Why?"

"Look for yourself."

He peered past her, his face twisting into an evil smirk.

"Do you think we could get their picture like that?"

Raven shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"No. Leave them alone. They've been through enough without you adding blackmail to their list of insults."

Sean sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're no fun."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Do you think they'll be all right?"

The smile fell off Raven's face as she looked back to her brother's unconscious form. She wasn't sure what all had happened three days ago, only that Charles and Erik had gotten into serious trouble and nearly died. From what she had heard from Erik, there was also a dead, traitorous telepath to add into the gunshots, frostbite, and bout of pneumonia both men had suffered through.

But looking at them now, three days later, they both were already on the mend. Charles would recover from the shock of losing yet another telepath and Erik would be the one to get him through it.

"I think they will be. Eventually."

Sean nodded.

"Good. I don't want to lose them."

"Me either."

Because no matter what happened, Charles and Erik were the glue that held their family together and Raven couldn't bear the thought of losing either one of them.

* * *

><p>Charles woke briefly sometime later, feeling warm and pain free. The nurse had upped his painkillers so he could no longer feel his bullet wound.<p>

He looked around, trying to figure out what woke him. His eyes rested on Erik, who was fast asleep, using his arms as a pillow. A smile tugged at Charles' face.

The last thing he thought before he drifted back to sleep was _they were going to be all right_. They weren't now, but they would be.


End file.
